


Spiced Cocoa

by Adenil



Series: 12 Days of Spones [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Chocolate, Fluff, M/M, Slightly Tipsy Vulcans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 17:37:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8854657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adenil/pseuds/Adenil
Summary: “I feel quite well,” Spock said, blinking. In fact, he felt very good indeed. Slightly euphoric, even. He contemplated McCoy’s worried blue eyes and brown hair. He had only touched McCoy’s lovely hair a few times, usually when McCoy had been injured. But he remembered it was soft. “Are you aware that your beauty is a full three standard deviations above the norm?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2: Food

Hauti’Cet IV was one of the more unique Earth-parallel planets they had encountered. The humanoids on the planet presented an odd mishmash of different cultural forms. Spock identified notes of Aztec-like spirituality, which looked odd in contrast to the great castles they lived in which were, other than that, decidedly Scottish in design. The people wore clothing not unlike those worn by the more nomadic of Vikings, and they spoke what was clearly French with a Quebecois accent.

“Where do they get the cocoa beans in this weather, that’s what I want to know,” McCoy muttered, looking out the window at the blinding snowstorm.

Indeed, it was curious. The landing party consisting of himself, Captain Kirk, Dr. McCoy, and Lieutenant Arex had beamed down for a reconnaissance mission without the intent of making contact with the locals. Unfortunately, the storm had driven them inland and into the open arms of the humanoids, who had greeted them with good cheer despite the fact that their party had caught them in the middle of a ritual cocoa drinking.

Spock’s bottom was cold from the hewn wood bench seat he was sitting on, but his right leg was warm from where McCoy kept bumping into him as he twisted around, drinking in the sight of the humanoids in their gold sun masks with horns seemingly tacked on as they prepared the drink.

It involved a lot of grinding the beans with rocks and singing. Spock kept his tricorder running to collect as much data as possible, hunkering low in the wool blanket they had given him when he had frowned at their first offer of an animal pelt. Outside, the wind whistled, high-pitched. The leader of the humanoids lifted a small red packet, said, “ _Je vais ajouter l'épice maintenant,_ ” and dumped it into the ground beans. The grinding person continued her work.

The Captain had already taken a special interest in the grinding woman, and Spock sighed at the sight, glancing to see if McCoy had noticed Kirk’s distraction. Just as he looked, McCoy jerked his head away to stare at the far wall, and Spock squinted. Had McCoy been looking at him?

Finally, the drink was finished. It was poured into several tall ceramic stout mugs, steaming hot, and topped with a dollop of something white and fluffy. They were each presented with a mug, which McCoy surreptitiously scanned.

“No toxins,” he muttered, smiling at the leader.

“Thank you for honoring us,” Kirk said, raising the mug and bowing his head, glittering slightly around the eyes and mouth. The leader wiggled in joy.

Spock picked up his mug and frowned. If this was truly cocoa, as McCoy suspected, then that did not bode well for him. With Kirk distracted by the woman he needed to remain coherent, and getting drunk would not assist him in that. But, looking around he saw that everyone was looking at him expectantly. Hesitantly, he took a drink.

It was rich and creamy and hot in his mouth. He swallowed more than he meant to, surprised at the burst of flavor that exploded across his tongue. It warmed him all the way down, and the sweetness of the cream on top clung to his lips. He licked his top lip to clean it and turned to McCoy, surprised.

“It is good.”

McCoy seemed to hesitate, eyes locked to Spock’s lips. Perhaps he had more cream there. He licked his lip again and McCoy looked away. “Yeah, it’s great.”

After that, the ritual seemed to break up and the crew began to mingle with the humanoids. McCoy struck up a stilted, yet congenial, conversation with a tall man next to him, and Spock kept sipping his cocoa. He let his gaze flit around the room, lighting here and there on whatever caught his interest. He found that focusing seemed more difficult, yet when he did focus he felt as though he was seeing…more. More of the colors and the shapes and the textures.

Spock spread his right hand out on the bench, trying to feel the smooth grain of the wood. It was difficult. His fingertips appeared to be numb. He scraped at the wood with his nail, studying the coat of the woman sitting across from him very closely. It looked fluffy and warm.

“Spock, are you alright?”

Spock slid his gaze languidly to McCoy, raising an eyebrow. “I am well, Doctor.”

McCoy glanced down and after a moment Spock did so as well. He saw his hand on the bench, his little pinky tucked against McCoy’s thigh.

“Hm.” Spock removed his hand and held it before his face. “I seem to have lost feeling in my extremities.”

Immediately, McCoy had his scanner out and was running it over Spock with a look of concern etched into his brow. Spock liked the intensity of his gaze. It warmed him.

“You aren’t cold, but your blood pressure’s a little low, for you. Here, follow my finger.” McCoy raised his hand and Spock thought he did a good job following it, but McCoy’s frown only deepened. “Spock, something is wrong.”

“I feel quite well,” Spock said, blinking. In fact, he felt very good indeed. Slightly euphoric, even. He contemplated McCoy’s worried blue eyes and brown hair. He had only touched McCoy’s lovely hair a few times, usually when McCoy had been injured. But he remembered it was soft. “Are you aware that your beauty is a full three standard deviations above the norm?”

McCoy’s eyes went comically wide. “Okay, something is definitely wrong. Look, just keep it together and I’ll get Arex to double down on trying to contact the ship through this storm.” He started to turn away, towards Kirk.

Spock shot out a hand, nearly toppling into McCoy’s lap. “Please refrain,” Spock requested softly. “My apparently odd behavior is no mystery.”

“Then what’s causing it?” He looked deeply concerned. “It’s not p—”

“Cocoa has an intoxicating effect on Vulcans,” Spock interrupted. “It appears that–despite my half-human heritage–I was not spared this.”

“You’re drunk?” McCoy stared for a moment and then abruptly began laughing. Spock watched as he tried to quash the giggles behind one of his broad hands, his little pinky ring glinting in the light of the lanterns. “Will ya look at that? A drunk Vulcan.”

Spock frowned. “It is no laughing matter, Doctor.”

“I’m sorry, you’re right,” said McCoy, not looking very sorry at all. “Here, let’s, uh…” He turned back to his conversational companion and whispered something that Spock had trouble focusing on, and next thing Spock knew he was being hauled up from under both arms.

McCoy and the other man helped him out of the great hall and into the winding corridors. He stumbled a few times before he realized that holding fast to McCoy was more enjoyable than attempting to walk by himself, and then after that he kept his nose tucked against McCoy’s neck.

“Oof,” McCoy grunted as they tossed Spock on a short bed. He thanked the other man, who left with a nod, and then began bustling around.

Spock watched him curiously, enjoying it immensely when McCoy rolled up his sleeves. McCoy drug over a small water basin and filled a mug.

“Here, try to drink this.”

Spock tried to obey, feeling disoriented until McCoy leaned in and brushed back his hair. McCoy helped him sit up and held the mug to his lips. Spock took a few sips of the cool, clean water, and then downed the rest.

McCoy set the mug aside and turned back to Spock, mouth open to start a question, and so Spock raised a hand to brush against McCoy’s lips, kissing him.

McCoy’s mouth slammed shut and his eyes went wide, clearly emanating confusion and panic as Spock explored his soft, plush lips. He could not quite hear McCoy’s surface thoughts through the touch. It was if his fingers were a match that refused to light. He recognized it as a symptom of his intoxication and curved his hand to one side, gently cupping McCoy’s chin and running the pad of his thumb over the Doctor’s lips instead.

“…Spock. What are you doing?”

“Kissing you,” Spock said matter-of-factly.

McCoy pulled away and stood up. He took a few steps like he was going to start pacing, but then he stopped abruptly. “You don’t mean—That is to say, that wasn’t a kiss.”

Spock was having trouble following the question. “Humans kiss with lips. Vulcans kiss with fingers. It seemed to be an acceptable middle ground to demonstrate my affection for you.” He furrowed his brow. “Did I disturb you?”

McCoy let out a long breath of air. “No,” he said eventually. “I was just…surprised.”

“Then please return to me so that I may kiss you again.”

McCoy shook his head, looking unsure. “I don’t, uh. I don’t want to take advantage of you when you’re drunk.” He looked incredulous for a moment before letting out a startled laugh. “Are you _pouting_?”

“Vulcans do not pout.”

“This is bizarre.” He stepped forward and sat beside Spock on the bed, rushing a hand through his soft-looking hair. “Look, Spock, where is this coming from?”

“I find you beautiful and mentally stimulating. I wished to express this to you.” He arched an eyebrow. “I assumed that would be obvious.”

“Oh you assumed, did you?” McCoy shook his head again. “You’re a real piece of work, Spock. Listen, I…” He reached out as if to touch but then quickly lowered his hand. “I think you’re…Listen, you’re not half-bad to look at. And you certainly keep me on my toes with all those arguments.”

“…But?” Spock suggested.

“But nothing.” McCoy shrugged. “I like you, too. I just don’t want you to do something drunk that you might regret while sober.” He smiled his soft little smile and Spock reached up again to touch it. McCoy let him do it for far too brief a time before taking his wrist and lowering his arm. “Will you remember this tomorrow?” he whispered.

Spock nodded. “That is likely.”

“Then remember that I said I like you. And tomorrow, if you still want to kiss me, I’ll kiss you back tenfold. Okay?”

Spock considered the proposal, his mind sluggish and confused. He wished for instant gratification, but he also recognized the logic in McCoy’s argument. He nodded. “Very well. That is acceptable.”

“Good. Now, why don’t you rest for a while?”

McCoy got him settled under the blankets. Spock felt warm and cozy and he peeked out from under the covers at McCoy, who was smiling down at him. McCoy brushed back his hair again and then seemed to steel. He leaned down and gave Spock a gentle kiss on the forehead.

“I’ll be right outside. If you need anything, just holler.”

Spock nodded. He watched McCoy walk towards the door and then he whispered, “My desire for you will not abate.”

He thought that McCoy hesitated before stepping into the corridor, but perhaps it was just his intoxicated mind playing tricks on him. He closed his eyes and the warmth overtook him, lulling him into an easy, comfortable sleep.


End file.
